


Ten

by awfulq



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Child Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Esteem Issues, maxwell is only mentioned in passing, this is just incredibly depressing im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfulq/pseuds/awfulq
Summary: Wendy is 10 years old.Still, she listens.
Relationships: Maxwell & Wendy (Don't Starve), No Romantic Relationship(s), Wendy (Don't Starve) & Everyone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Ten

Wendy was 10 years old.  
Granted, this was easy to forget sometimes by the way she spoke, but she was 10 nonetheless. Still, she would listen, and take on the weight of other's problems. In her eyes, no one should need to suffer alone.  
She allowed those around her to share their burden with her, and she did not mind.  
She did not mind.  
Though the burden was heavy indeed, Atlas did not complain when he carried the Earth, so nor would she. It made everyone around her feel so much better when they could get things off their chest.  
Surely, her own well-being could not matter half as much.  
It seemed as such, anyhow. When sadness is your average, people do not think much of it.  
So she listened to others, their pain, their sorrow. "I worry for my family," "Did anyone notice I was gone," "I feel so useless," "It should have been me," "I want to die," etcetera etcetera, over and over. She did her best to ease their anguish, though she was no expert at comfort. Sometimes, she could not help at all except by simply being there.  
And so she offered her shoulder to cry on. People over twice her age who would never tell anyone else the secrets they told her, who would never cry in front of anyone but her.  
It was not something she was unfamiliar with. Her dear father had done it too, embracing her as he wept silently over the losses which plagued his life.  
He had no one else to turn to, and neither did the rest.  
She knew almost everything about those around her.  
Almost.  
One person frustrated her to no end. Maxwell, or- William. Her uncle.  
She knew he was suffering in silence, she could see how tired he was, and she wanted to help him.  
...But even she could not get him to open up. Instead, he had even tried to turn the table on her.  
No one ever asked her how she was feeling, not really. Yes, they would say "How are you, Wendy," "Are you alright, Wendy," and other obligatory phrases, but this was different.  
She should have known, if anyone would see through her, it would be her family.  
She could never tell him, though. He must have had a world of problems already plaguing him, he did not need the insignificant troubles of a little girl.  
No one did.  
Even if she was more tired than she would ever say. More tired than any 10 year old should ever be.  
No, no one needed to know just how much death she had seen, let alone how many were her own. Nor did they need to hear exactly how many of those were not the fault of the Constant or its beasts.  
They certainly did not need to know if those deaths were still occurring.  
No, she was fine.  
It did not matter if Wendy was 10 years old.  
She did not matter.

**Author's Note:**

> i got sad so this... Happened.  
> and there's also like No wendy-centric fic so. it's free real estate.


End file.
